The Yakuza Man
by Ghost Sniper
Summary: Formerly Kasens Bodyguard. The "Blue Dragons" are out in the open, So the new three agents move in.
1. Arrival

Authors Note- I don't own anything, so keep your damn lawyers away.

**Grand Theft Auto: The Yakuza Man**

_There are more pleasant things to do than beat up people. _

_-Muhammad Ali_

The airliner touched down once, twice, three times before it managed to stay down on the tarmac. Inside, James White handed his wineglass to the to the steward and stood. Before the plane had stopped moving, he stood at the door, waiting for it to open. When it did, he was the first down the ramp, and instead of heading inside the terminal; he walked down the side road until he arrived at the small parking lot on the left side of the road. Inside was his car, a sleek new fiery red Infernus. He stepped in and sat down in the low seat. In the passenger seat was a manila envelope. Inside was an envelope, map, and plastic card. Flipping the dome light on, he looked over the letter.

_ Mr. James White_

_ We of the Liberty City Yakuza formally welcome you to our branch of the family. We have heard of your exploits in Myer City, and have decided to take the word of your friend Mr. Choi. Please report to Mr. Kasen in the Staunton Island casino for your full acceptance. We look forward to working with you Mr. White, any person Mr. Choi says is a good man, must be so._

_ -Mr. And Mrs. Kasen_

He replaced the letter in the envelope, and looked over the card; it was a plain white one with a barcode on the side and a number on the other. With a quick look at the map, he oriented himself. Placing it all back, he started the car, put it in gear, and pulled out of the parking lot.

He got all the way to the center of the Staunton Island Bridge, before he noticed that there were no other cars. He waited at the raised section of bridge for close to a half-hour, before he finally pulled his car into a U-turn, and peeled out in the other direction. Annoyed, he slammed on the breaks at the first pedestrian he met and rolled down his window.

"What the hells wrong with the damn bridge?" he snarled.

The young man looked at him, startled.

"The bridge is broken, they're missing a gear, it's stuck in the "up" position."

James sat for a moment, then looked around.

"So how do you reach the Island?"

The young man snorted. "You don't."

With that, he turned, and walked off, ignoring any more of Whites questions. James rolled up his window. This was great, he needed to get to the casino, and he needed to do it NOW.

He sat there for a few moments, ignoring the curses and screams from the other drivers as he blocked the traffic. After a few, he decided that if he was going to be stuck here, he needed to find a room. So, revving the engine, he took off, peeling out down the road.

* * *

Robert Barnes walked down the road. To his side, the Sex Club 7 advertised its contents. Looking around, he quietly entered a building a little ways down the street. Moving swiftly, he climbed the stairs to the third floor. Entering one of the vacant rooms, he walked to the window. 

He placed the briefcase he was carrying on the table next to the window and clicked it open. Inside were the disassembled pieces of a military model M24 sniper rifle. He slowly assembled the rifle, taking his time to make sure everything was in working order. When he was done, he took his time lining up his shot, placing the crosshair at the entrance to the club. There he waited, but for only a few minuets before something happened.

A green kuruma pulled up, on the wrong side of the street, and two men exited the car. A bald headed black guy in an old high school jacket and a white guy with an old 80's ducks-ass haircut, wearing a leather jacket, looking like some kind of James Dean throwback. The two entered the rear entrance, which made him frown. Usually the guest parked down the road in another parking lot. And usually the guest entered the front door. Looked like Luigi had some new henchman.

He watched intently, and after a few minuets the James Dean wannabe came back. Barnes swung the scope so it centered on hid forehead, but didn't fire. "Jacket," as he was starting to think of him, got in the car, and made a U-turn. He watched for a little while as the car disappeared around the corner, then sighed and began disassembling his rifle. It didn't look like Goterelli would be making an appearance tonight. It was no worry; he had other targets, eleven total. He had been sent here to do a job, and he planned on completing it.

* * *

Authors Note- This is just a set-up chapter. There will be a few more, but don't worry, I'll throw in some action next time. Give me reviews, positive or negative. 

4-11-05- Update. As an apology for no writing as of late, I have gone back and cleaned up the earlier chapters. I'll knock out a new chapter ASAP. Hopefully in two weeks time.


	2. Welcome to Staunton Island

Sunday- An alarm went off. White rolled over and clapped his hand down on the "snooze" button. He lay there for a few minuets, cursing lightly before he looked at his clock. Just after one in the morning. Still cursing, he got up and sat on the edge of his bed, and rubbed his eyes with the palms of his hands. Slowly he got to his feet and stumbled to the shower. Seven hours earlier he had called the casino and explained his problem. The clerk on duty had informed him that they would send a boat to him, and that he should be ready to leave at two a.m. He was to meet them at the base of the big dam. Emerging from the shower, he found a fresh pair of clothes, and quickly dressed. Cramming the remainder of his things in his duffel bag, he grabbed his keys and was out the door.  
  
Barnes opened the door to his apartment and threw the suitcase on his bed. He moved to the kitchen and pulled a beer from the mini-fridge. Today had been a horrible day. He wasn't able to connect with any of his targets, and worse more, he had almost been caught. He sighed, he hadn't wanted to kill the clerk, but he had seen too much. Not enough to put two and two together, but any was two much in his book. Better safe than sorry. He finished the drink and made up his mind. Tomorrow he would hit the big man himself, Salvatore Leone. He just had to figure out how the hell he was gonna do it.  
  
The red infernus pulled to a stop, and the driver cut the engine. The Yakuza member watched as a young man steeped out and started toward him. He frowned. The man approaching him was about six-foot, wiry, and had short, black, curly hair cut into a flattop haircut. He was about as Asian as John Wayne. James approached and saw the two Yakuza members patrolling around the white reefer boat. Their flashy suites were a dead giveaway. He presented his white card to the man, who looked at him, unimpressed. Frowning, he crammed that into his pocket, and pulled the letter out. The man read it, then eyed White. After a long moment, he nodded with his head. James retrieved his letter, grabbed his bag, and boarded the boat. With a cough, the reefer stalled, but then caught and began chugging slowly forward. The last part of Shoreside Vale that he saw was the red infernus, its glossy paintjob catching the light from the departing reefer.  
  
Barnes took the street, feeling slightly better. He had spent the night formulating a plan, and it was time to put it into action. First, he needed a car. And not just any car, he needed one of the black Sentinels that the Portland Mafia were famous for driving around in. With a quick sweep of the area, he froze. Barnes wasn't a big believer in luck, but sometimes it got hard to deny its existence. Down the road from where he stood, next to a section of road that had been blocked off due to construction and huge holes in the road, was a black Sentinel, that was pulled up on the curve, a cop leaning on its bumper, writing a ticket. All around, traffic was clear, and there was a minimum of pedestrians for the first time since he had come here. He didn't need another sign. He set off at a jog. The officer was just about to tear the speeding ticket off when he felt something against the back of his head. "Turn you fucking head and Im gonna splatter you all over this mans car." Barnes stood behind him, his personal sidearm, a bulky .50 Dessert Eagle, pressed against the officer's head. With his free hand, he pulled the officer's .45 and pointed it at the startled Mafia driver. "Get out, and get spread eagle on the ground, and don't make a fucking move." The man got out, and complied. The Mafia man was one thing, but he didn't want to have to kill the cop. He was just another man doing his job. Besides that, it would look bad on his record. Still keeping the .45 on the mobster, he quickly pulled the officers cuffs out. This was the tricky part. Moving quickly, he stuffed the .45 in his belt, opened the cuffs, and slid the cop's hand in, making sure he locked them tight. All this took under ten seconds, but that was all the time mobster needed. He rolled to the side, and went for his sidearm. Barnes reacted quickly, pushing the cop face down and swiveling the .50 to fire. Both pistols went off at the same time. Both men yelled, grabbing at their wounds. Barnes, being the experienced of the two, recovered first. He pounced on the man, and rolled him over. He crammed the Mafia mans head between the pavement and the tire, hearing the sickening crunch of the mobsters skull on the ground. In his fit of rage, he forgot what he was shooting with. Placing the heavy pistol against the mans head, he pulled the trigger, and immediately regretted it. The high powered pistol punched a round straight through the mobsters head, and into the tire. "FUCK" he bellowed, and grabbed the man by his shirt collar, letting his head go limp, draining fluid all over the pavement. He threw the man off to the side, and turned to the cop, who was attempting to caterpillar crawl away. His broken nose was adding to the sickening fluid that was pooling at the base of the curb. He grabbed the man, who had still not seen his face, and opened to rear door of the squad car. He threw him in, making sure his head went in the foot space between the front and rear seats. He then grabbed the Mafia man and pilled him on top. Making sure the doors were locked, he picked up the dropped .45, and sat down in the Sentinel. For the first time he felt the stab of pain from the bullet that had gone cleanly through his thigh. But there wasn't time to hurt, He had to get to the "pay 'n spray." The fight had thrown him off schedule, and needed to get back on.  
  
Authors Note- Yeah I threw in a quick fight part. They will get better, I promise, Im still setting up the action. I appreciate the reviews, and hey, the more the merrier. 


	3. Help with a fight

James got out of the Yakuza stinger, and entered the casino. He passed the gamblers, some happy, some depressed. The elderly at the slot machines, drunken, overweight people slumped over the card tables, and younger, more excited people at the craps tables. He followed Yakuza man past all this, to a door in the back. The black haired man turned and spoke. "Take the stairs to the top floor, Mr. Kasen is there." James nodded and began climbing. He reached the floor, and entered, stepping into a mix of a lounge, and mission control. The maroon carpeting and walls mixed perfectly with the gold trim. It made him stop and wonder how much he had paid to do all this. In the center of the room, and against the wall were rows of computers, each one on its own, separate, task. But something was wrong.... The staff seemed panicked. "Mr. White" came a booming voice. "You have finally arrived." James turned and saw the big man himself, Kenji Kasen. He too looked panicked. "Mr. White, I am glad you have arrived, but I'm afraid we have a situation. There is a problem at a block where the Colombian Cartels and our land mix. And at this time, there is a fight going on down there. I'm sending you out there to help. Go down to the parking area and hitch a ride with one of the cars." James frowned, unsure of what to say. "Sir, I'm not sure if Mr. Choi informed you or not, but I work as a body guard, and besides that, I haven't even been issued a weapon." Kasen turned and grabbed an Uzi from the hands of the nearest guard. "You are now, take this and fight for your money." With that, he turned and walked across the room to one of the several computers. White stood there for a few minuets, before he turned and started to the stairs.  
  
Barnes stood outside the Portland pay n' spray, a small bag of provisions at his feet. He had walked down he road and picked up several small beer cans from the neighborhood market, a small hole in the wall place. He leaned against the wall, slowly drinking one now. He looked at the can and sighed, his drinking had almost cut his chances of working for the agency. But he had scaled it back a lot since then. He remembered the Director saying to him.... His thoughts were interrupted by the mechanic calling him. He walked inside to meet the small, shifty man. "All done sir, scrubbed it down and everything." Barnes inspected the car. It did look good. With a nod, he paid the mechanic. Pulling out, he put the car in drive and took off. He got roughly two hundred yards before he had to slam on the brakes. There was a three-car back up. He got out and stood behind the door, trying to see what was going on. "Oh shit..." Ahead of him, was his new friend, black jacket. The same man whom he had seen entering the Sex Club 7, engaged in a shoot out with two other men. Jacket was kneeling down behind the same green Kurma as before. Across the way, two men were returning fire from behind the cover of a Diablo Stallion, the Diablo gang's car of choice. He watched as Jacket fired of three quick rounds from his .45, before ducking back. Across the road, the two men returned fire. One of them was firing a pistol, the same model as jackets, while the other was hefting a twelve-gauge shotgun. There was a loud CRACK as the shotgun went off, and the thin gangster struggled to keep the recoil under control. The shotgun peppered the door, but Jacket had enough sense to stay behind the thick engine block, which would protect him from any incoming rounds. Jacket popped up again, and before the pistol holding man could get down, jacket put three rounds in him. One in the chest, one in the throat, and one in the head. Jacket ducked down, but shotgun apparently decided he had had enough. He began unloading on the back of the car. Jacket apparently knew what this meant. He leaped backwards and hit the ground, but he kept going, rolling away as fast as he could. Shotgun finally hit his mark, and as the gas tank exploded, he realized his mistake. The Kurma jumped up, then came crashing down. It slammed against the side of the Stallion hard enough to ignite the gas inside that car, so it in turn went up. Two cars ahead of Barnes, the civilian's vehicle who was unlucky enough to get caught at the front of the back up, got enough of it that it too exploded. Realizing what was going to happen, he sat down in the sentinel, and quickly put it in reverse. He slammed down on the accelerator and flew backwards, just as the second car went up. The woman in front of him had the same idea, but she wasn't fast enough. Her car began flaming as she went back, and slammed in to the nearest building, which instantly started to catch fire. Barnes stopped and surveyed the carnage, and was surprised to see jacket running from the scene. He watched as he ran to the nearest car, a yellow taxi, and pulled the driver out. Getting in, Jacket floored it and took off. In the distance, he could hear sirens. Barnes got in his car too, and pulled out. He had other things to do. And this had wasted enough time.  
  
James sat in the passenger seat of a Stinger, as it barreled along. The driver, a man in his early twenties, took the corners wide, ignored stoplights, and swerved in and out of traffic. And to top it off, he was blaring the radio on the channel "Lips." They spun around the corner and slammed to a stop. "Christ..." he muttered and got out. This wasn't a fight; this was a full-blown war. On one side, there were several Cruisers parked hastily end to end. On the other side, in front of a long blue railing, sever stingers were strewn about. Clumps of men his behind each side. In the middle were dozens of dead bodies, cartel, yakuza, civilian, police ... It was a mess. But he knew what both sides were fighting for. They both wanted control of the mess.  
  
Authors Note- Hey another chapter. More action, as promised. I'll continue Whites battle the next chapter. Cheap ending, I know. Hey you can put that in your review... 


	4. Turf War

The bullets were flying fast and hard. James ducked down behind the Stinger as rounds hit the front and side of the car. Bullets that scraped across the hood caused little bits of paint and metal to fall in his hair and face. He sucked in a deep breath, before popping up. He lay his fully extended arm on the hood and did his best to aim under the conditions, before pulling the trigger. The five round burst stitched its way across the side of one of the trucks, taking out two windows, but no Colombians. Next to him, the man at the trunk of the car suddenly flew backwards, the force of the three 7.62x38 rounds propelling him. He went down screaming, grabbing at the holes in his chest. Behind the car to his right, another man went down, two bullets in his skull. White put it out of his mind, as he popped up again, and depressed the trigger. But this time he held it down. He watched the bullet holes as he moved the gun right. Rounds peppered the side, then the engine block of the 4x4. James jerked the gun up, and watched the round trail again. This time they made there way up, and connected with the chest and head of a very surprised Colombian. He ducked back and looked around. James grabbed the shoe of the still screaming Yakuza man and pulled him closer. Reaching around inside of his jacket, he retrieved two bloodstained clips. With a quick smile for the dying man, he loaded a clip and did the Asian man a favor. He tapped the trigger at the dying mans skull, and put him out of his misery. He pushed the bleeding body away, and returned to the matter at hand. Next to him, a Yakuza gangster was running from car to car, trying to reach White's car. He was halfway between two vehicles when he was suddenly hit, and hard. At least three AK-47's were trained on him, and they were tearing him apart. Even after he was dead, they kept firing, pushing him against the small blue shelter behind them. James turned from the gruesome sight, but turned back. Out of the dead mans hand, rolled a small green object... A Grenade! One of the other men saw it, and he jumped into action. He dove for it, skinning body parts on the pavement, but didn't stop. He rolled over next to James, who made room. The young man rose up, pulled his arm back, and let the grenade fly. Except before it left his hand, his shoulder seemed to explode. The six incoming rounds simply destroyed his shoulder at the joint. He went back screaming, and the grenade bounced down in the middle of the road, between the two groups. It bounced and landed on a small pile of bodies. James turned and ducked down, hands over his ears. And when it went off, he felt the rumble in the earth, the heat from the explosion, then he felt the side of the car as it slammed against his head.  
  
Barnes slammed the phone down in the cradle hard enough to break the receiver off. He was pissed. According to the man on his payroll, whose job was to sit outside the Don's mansion all day, Leone was hunkering down inside of his country club house. It would be impossible to get him from there. A sniper attack was blocked by the thick surrounding of trees around his house, and a frontal assault was suicide, thanks to the Dons ever- present security force. All his carefully laid out plans were shot. All because the Don felt a little nervous. He looked around for something to vent his anger on, but there was nothing. He sighed. It was back to the drawing board.  
  
James White slowly opened his eyes. He felt a liquid all over his face, and he tasted copper. He rolled over and let the blood drip off. It was then that his hearing returned, all it once. It was like a physical blow, all the sounds hitting him at once. He pushed himself to his feet, but he was immediately pulled down. He looked into the wild eyes of a panicked Yakuza man. "What are you doing man, were in the middle of a fucking war zone, Keep You Head Down." James nodded dumbly, remembering where he was. He looked around to survey the situation. The car lay smashed against a wall. Someone had pulled him over to a new one. Off to the side was the wounded man, nursing his destroyed shoulder, but firing with his other hand. He turned to survey the other side. One of the trucks had been turned so it faced up the road, and under it were several bodies. There were only five Colombians left, and they vehicles they were hiding behind were splattered with blood and other gore. The pile of bodies where the grenade had exploded was gone, its remains splattered across the pavement and the sides of the cruisers. He shook his head, this was enough. He rose up, ignoring the tugs at his pant leg from the young gangster. "I'm tired of the bull shit, Lets Take Back Our Corner." With that, he let lose a scream and charged. The remnants of the gang also rose up to the attack, and as one they swarmed at the cruisers.  
  
Miguel Jones watched the young black haired white guy stand and scream something. He drew a bead on the man, when he started charging! He frowned and looked up. Shit! They were all charging! He looked to his left at his friend Juan, who lay against a truck, holding his stomach, fighting a loosing battle to keep his insides inside. He shook his head and turned back. He began firing, as were the rest of the cartel members. He got two of them, three, four. Jesus! They were just charging, a tactic that could be described as suicidal at best. He shook his head again and began peering down the sights of the '47 when he spotted a man he had shot earlier. A Yakuza man whom had had possession of a grenade. He was running forward, his arm hanging limply at his side. The man managed to pull up his .45 sidearm, and began firing. Miguel felt four bullet impacts in his chest. He fell back hard on his back, as more men began climbing over the trucks. The last thing he saw, before a Yakuza mobster put three rounds in his skull, was the white guy, as he said something to Juan, before placing a pistol to his head, and firing.  
  
Authors Note- I suck at describing the place. What can I say, I don't have access to the game any more. But I'll try my best anyway. The spot is the area near the car entrance to the police station on the island. Next to the construction area. I couldn't remember if there was one of those little blue hallway things there or not, so I put one in. The Yakuza has their backs to that; the cartel has their backs to the road that leads to the car entrance to the police station. If you go there on the game, the cartel and Yakuza regularly have fights there. Anyway, back to the story. Once again, I appreciate the reviews, and more is always better. So stop reading this and go review. Review twice! Look at it this way, the more you review, they less time I'll sit here ranting. 


	5. Counter Attack

James sat on the table, his back against the wall, as the young nurse swabbed some of the blood off his face. He cringed when the big sponge came in contact with the three-inch gash on his forehead. The nurse ignored that, and finished cleaning the area before going for the needle and thread that sat next to him on the table. As she began, he looked at her and asked; "How are the others?" She ignored him, and kept stitching. "Fine, we'll sit here in silence the whole time." It was a quiet half-hour  
  
Later, and cleaned up, he walked into Kasens office. The Yakuza leader sat behind his huge, oak, desk, a relaxed look on his face. When he saw White enter, he immediately came to his feet, and smiled. "Very nice Mr. White" he said, as he extended hand "I hear you did a perfect job at the corner. On behave of the entire Liberty City Yakuza, thank you." White shook his head, and smiled "Thank you sir, but I have discovered that it is much better for my health if I keep to guard work." The smile faded, and White shook his head. "Now what?"  
  
Barnes slammed the car door shut. He was pissed. Up in his apartment, he slammed the door, causing the elderly lady next-door to jump. Moving swiftly, he lifted the top mattress off his bed and pushed it aside. Removing the cloth that went between the two exposed a zipper. He unzipped it, and looked inside. Inside of the box spring there were three suitcases and a duffel bag. He grabbed the black duffel, and replaced the mattress and covers. Suitcase in hand, he walked out the door, muttering curses the whole way.  
  
James White sat in the Cartel Cruiser, nervously fiddling with the radio dial. He finally settled on "Chatterbox." Some nut was complaining about not being able to be naked in public. Next to him, the driver frowned at his choice, but said nothing. He lowered his eyes to the Uzi sub-machine gun in his lap. Behind him, the two other Yakuza men were starring out their windows. The driver slowed to a stop a block from the target. He looked at the group and nodded. Without a word, his "team" puled their weapons out, loaded them, and removed the safety. Once it went bad, there would be no time to do this. The driver pulled his own sidearm, a .45, and puled he hammer. When they were done, he pulled the truck up to the gate of the cartel HQ. Inside, the board guard pulled the lever at the sight of the big blue truck. They drove right in.  
  
Barnes stopped the Sentinel and got out. Looking around, he made sure no one was looking, and walked towards to beat up old Perennial. Chong, Lee was having a lapse in his security, and this was a prime time to strike. He approached the car, and pulled a small knife he had picked up from his apartment. He walked up to the front tire and, trying to look casual, stuck the blade into the front tire. He let it sit for a few, before withdrawing it. He was about to walk to the other tire, when he heard two distinct gunshots. Cursing, he stuck the knife back in his pocket and backed off, trying to look innocent. Around the corner came non-other Chong himself. He was about to pull the sidearm and nail the overweight gangster, when around the corner came his new friend, black jacket. He chased the man, but wasn't able to reach him before Chong got to his car. Actually, he didn't even try. He slid to a stop, and brought up the .45 in a one handed stance. Barnes watched, mesmerized, as the man took careful aim, and fired, twice. Lee Chong's head snapped back against the headrest, and the back of his car was splattered with blood and brain matter. Barnes's mouth gaped. The man had taken up a single-handed stance, and just drilled two holes in the gangster's head. Jacket turned to the only witness. Him. The two locked eyes. Barnes let his hand casually drop down to the side of his black jacket, ready to go for his gun in a heartbeat. But the man broke the stare. He turned and stopped again. Three triads were coming his way. Two had large baseball bats; the third carried a sidearm. Jacket pulled his weapon up and took aim. The pistol totting triad man went down with a thud; Two red splotches were spreading on his chest. He shifted his aim to the next man and let off two rounds. He swiveled to take out the final man, but he had let the blue suited triad get to close. The man pulled the bat back just as jacket jabbed the gun into his chest. A gunshot rang out, and the triad gangster flew back. But no before he completed the swing. Jacket yelped and grabbed his arm. But only for a moment. Like a shot, he began running as more triads began appearing from around the corner. Barnes walked over and inspected the body of Chong, just in case. Black Jacket had just made his job easier. He smiled and turned around, headed for the car.  
  
The blue cruiser pulled into the center of the small-garaged area. Inside, the driver took one last look at his team, and nodded. He said something in his native tong, and the two in the backseat chuckled. James looked at the driver, and shook his head.  
  
Juan was lazily patrolling the perimeter of the base, when all hell broke loose. He spun and brought his Ak-47 up. Out of the truck that had just driven up came three Yakuza men and a white guy. Juan ran forward and crouched down to take aim. Three rounds stitched across one of the Yakuza men. The Japanese mobster spun and went down, spraying a wall with bullets. He swiveled the gun to fire again when the white guy opened up on him.  
  
White fired off a burst that connected with a kneeling cartel man. He turned and put the gun on the hood. Across from him, the driver was firing his pistol as fast as he could pull the trigger. He stopped to reload, when a cartel man opened up on him. The man was thrown against the engine block, and rattled with the impact of the rounds. The driver slid down the side of the 4x4 as White target the shooter and let off a burst. A clean miss. He cursed and turned the Uzi when he heard a scream. The last Yakuza mobster ate lead. He screamed a curse and knelt by the engine block, reloading the gun with shaking hands. He came back up when he saw no less then seven cartel men rushing him  
  
"Oh Shit"  
  
Authors Note-I'm not sure why, but I'm not as happy with this chapter. What do you guys think? Also, the "Cartel HQ" is the place you attack when you rescue the "Asian man". 


	6. Life or Death

Bullets criss-crossed the blue 4x4s hood. White pulled back towards the gate, the Uzi vibrating in his hand. Four cartel men were closing in. He had taken out two with a broad burst across their stomachs. The last one lay on the ground, out cold. He had dove for cover behind the truck, but on his way down, banged his head on the side door. He tried to keep the rabid recoil under control as he backpedaled. He reached the both that contained the gate control just as his weapon ran dry. Cursing, he threw it at them, but to no avail. He stretched out his hand, reaching for the button. _Almost_... There! The gate rumbled open just as one of the cartel men lined up a shot. He opened up, and hit White square in the chest. The force of the assault rifle was like a hand. It pushed him out through the gate on to the sidewalk. One of the Colombians ran to him. He paused as he saw that Whites chest was still rising and falling. He was still breathing... _Tough guy_... He thought as he raised the rifle to his shoulder. He began to tighten his grip on the rifle when he heard a voice.  
  
"Stop, Police!"  
  
"Aww hell." Muttered the Colombian. He turned to take out the street cop when two gunshots rang out. He froze, the rifle slipping from his hands. Looking down, he saw the twin red splotches on his stomach. The moment he looked down, he panicked. Screaming, he grabbed his stomach with both hands, and fell backwards.

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Barnes stared at the bum in total disbelief.  
  
"You did _What_?"  
  
The man had crawled into a fetal position, one hand up, an attempt to block the shot that was surely going to come. _But his eyes_... In his eyes, he held a look of defiance.  
  
"I told them who you are." He said, looking up at him. That's when Barnes lost it. When he had first arrived in Liberty City, he had found a bum that made a home across the street from the Salvetory mansion. He offered the man a couple hundred a day to hang around there, and watch to see if anything changed. But now, the bum had sold him out. Hope it was worth your life... Barnes raised both fist, and began pummeling the man. He felt a nose break under his fist, a rib give way under his foot. He straightened himself, looking around. _Aha..._ He picked up a steal pole, and looked at it. The bum looked up at him, tears from the pain building in his eye.  
  
"Please... No." Barnes ignored him, and attacked with the pole.

----------

Officer Jerry Duane lowered the smoking pistol, and began running towards the downed man, talking frantically into the radio on his shoulder. He got within ten yards of the shot man before he saw several more Cartel members' rush out to the aid of there wounded friend. Jerry skidded to a halt, and dove behind a car before the gang could turn their weapons on him. He was now pleading with the radio for backup when he heard the sirens. Turning, he saw two squad cars pull up. Frantically, he motioned the new officers to get down. But one man didn't listen. He stood next to the door and looked around.  
  
"Wilkerson! What the fu-." He was cut off by a blast of automatic fire. Wilkersons head snapped back as he caught a face full of lead. He slowly dropped to his knees, the fell against the car door. The rest of the policemen were more careful. One of them crawled to Duanes position. When he arrived, Jerry quickly filled him in on what had happened. The officer, a Sergeant, nodded. He jacked a round into the shotgun he had brought, and snapped around the corner. Immediately he opened fire. Jerry leaned across the other side to help. One of the cartel men was gone, as was the gut-shot man, but the wounded civilian was still there. In the distance, he could hear the wail of a new siren. The ambulance was coming.  
  
"God Damnit, I'm hit" Jerry looked back. One of the officers had taken a burst in his stomach and was laying back, hands over his stomach. He snapped back in time to see the Sergeant nail one of the Colombians. The foreign mans face exploded in a red spray. Duane turned and vomited in the gutter. Behind them, he heard a thud. The third officer twisted and went down, banging his head on the door as he went. Jerry turned back and poked his head around the corner. There was one remaining man. He had the Sergeant pinned down. Duane carefully brought his gun up, lined up the shot, and fired.

----------

Barnes looked down at the broken man. He was bleeding profusely from several open wounds, and the majority of his bones were broken. He lay in a heap on the ground, but was some how alive. Barnes had been at it for a while, but had calmed down when he realized the bum could not have disclosed whom he worked for, because he didn't know. But that did not change the fact that if he had known, he would have sold him out, and the whole operation would have been ruined. He looked down at the weeping man with no pity. Barnes drew his heavy pistol and pulled the bum to his knees. He placed it against the weeping mans skull, and pulled the trigger.

----------

Duane pushed himself off the ground and ran to the injured man. He saw his chest rising and falling despite the amount of blood that was pooled around him. Next to him, the Sergeant ran, keeping the shotgun up and ready to fire. It was a good thing to, because out from around the corner stepped a surprised Colombian who was rubbing his head. He saw the two cops running his way, and froze, his eyes wide.  
  
"Freeze! LCPD, Drop The Gun!"  
  
Duane knelt at the civilian as the Sergeant cuffed the Colombian. Jesus, how was this man still alive?  
  
"Doctor!" he screamed, trying to get the paramedics attention. The doctor ran to them, and knelt.  
  
"Jesus... Larry, Grab the stretcher, we got a problem." Jerry backed off and watched the men do their job. The Sergeant came up next to him.  
  
"He gonna be ok?"  
  
"Dunno sarge, he's full of metal, Not sure if he needs a doctor, or a welder."  
  
"Good shooting today son, now pack it up and call in a clean up team. We have seen enough of the fucking street for the day." The Sergeant began to turn, when he froze, and looked back at the civilian's face.  
  
"Ho-ly Shit. That's him!"  
  
"That's who?"  
  
That's the guy who has been causing this shit over in Myers City. He has a rap sheet a mile long. I recognize him from the warrant they got on him. He's a Yakuza boy. Get some more squad cars in here, he's gonna need an escort. We don't want those Japs snatching him back before we get a chance to play twenty questions with him."  
  
"If he makes it sarge."  
  
Authors Note-This chapter shows Barnes's Dark side. Hope the new paragraphing is better. Also, should White live or die? In your review (which I know you guys are lined up to do) Say if you think he should make it or not. The story will continue either way, but one way could change the story greatly.


	7. Who is Barnes?

Blood gurgled in the mans throat. Larry Winston was with him in an instant. He peered into the mans open mouth before finding the problem. Winston grasped the young mans head and turned it so the blood could drip out of his mouth, onto the cold floor of the ambulance.

"Jamie, you better step on it, or this kid is gonna die right here, right now."

The driver grunted in reply, but sped up the ambulance. He swerved in and out of the slow moving traffic, not once putting his foot anywhere near the brake. He swerved around a maroon sentinel, nearly clipping an older man on the sidewalk. In the back, Larry was unsure of what to do. He was afraid to touch the young man with the black hair. It was amazing that he was even alive, but they wouldn't be amazed for long unless they could get him to the hospital, fast. Even now, his vital signs were dropping, he pulse slowing.

"Jamie, God Damnit, drive faster!"

The driver, grunted, but increased his speed.

----------

Barnes sat on the boat, feeling the gentle rise and fall of the waves. He was only half paying attention to his course. The Reefer was moving so slowly, that it really didn't matter. Overhead, the gulls were circling lazily in the afternoon sun. Normally, he would not allow himself to be so slack, but there was really no threat, besides sunburn, for the moment. Normally, he would have been back at his apartment, planning how he could get in and out with a shot at Cipriani, or scouting the area around Leone's sun's auto shop, looking for a good snipers perch. But today, he had been called off his assignment, because some guy, way up on the food chain, was landing at Francis International, and he needed an escort. Normally, they wouldn't pull someone this far undercover out to escort someone, so this meant he was someone important, real important.

The ambulance pulled up to the doors of the ER; it's screaming siren announcing its approach. Three doctors pushed a gurney to the red and white vehicle. Larry pushed open the door and hopped out. Behind him, a pool of blood dripped out the back. He grabbed the nearest doctor and pointed to the man who looked more like a pile of chewed up meat, then an actual person.

"Oh Shit, what happened to him?"

"Gun fight" was the simple answer that explained everything.

Together, the three doctors and Winston lifted the red-soaked stretcher and placed it on the hospital gurney. Immediately the three doctors took off, spewing medical jargon at each other, the wounded man in tow.

Jaime walked around next to where Larry was removing his once white gloves. He dropped to red mess in a pile and looked at Jaime, who began to speak.

"He gonna be ok?" The driver asked.

"It don't look good man, it really don't look good."

----------

Barnes watched as the plan touched down, as the large stairs were pushed to the side of the aircraft, and as the jet-lagged passengers slowly made there way off. He spotted his man immediately; he was wearing a plaid sports jacket, as was there pre-arranged signal. Barnes approached him.

"Mr. Clark?" He really doubted "Clark" was his real name.

The man looked up.

"Yes"

"I was sent by the old fat men to pick you up." 'Old Fat Men' were the signal words. He had no idea who had thought them up.

The man nodded without a word, and the two began walking around to the parking lot. He was supposed to drive him over to the "Atlantic Quays" section of Portland Island. From there he would be passed off to a professional security force. Why they didn't bother to go to the airport and get him to begin with was beyond him.

Barnes approached the Sentinel with a somewhat bored look on his face, when he heard an all to familiar /click/. Barnes whirled around to see some street punk holding a nine-millimeter glock in his shaking hand.

"Y-y-your Wallets, N-now "he stammered.

Barnes and the other man traded looks, but both complied. Barnes began to extend the hand holding the wallet, when he stopped, and flipped it open, revealing the shinning badge.

"Federal Agent, Don't Fucking Move."

As was to be expected, the man did the complete opposite as he was ordered. He turned the shaking gun to Barnes, who was already in motion. Barnes tucked his head down, crouched as to stay under the mugger's line of fire, and came up hard into his chest. The move knocked the mugger off of his feet, and brought Barnes crashing down on top of him. The 9mm went flying, but the mugger somehow got his hands on Barnes's Dessert Eagle. And as he was trying to push the bigger man off, he accidentally caught the safety catch on the holster. The bulky sidearm slid out to the ground as Barnes, unaware of what had happened, rolled off of him. The jittery mugger pulled the heavy pistol up with both hands as the government man /finally/ decided it would be a good idea to run. As Barnes was rolling to his feet, he saw the mugger bring up the .50 and fire off three rounds at the escaping government official. Two of the rounds connected with him, both in the back, and blew huge chunks out of the portly man. The recoil literally threw the pistol back over his head, with both his hands still gripping it. Barnes was on him in an instant, pummeling him with blows. Robert Barnes pulled the .50 from his attackers weakened hands, and in hit fit of rage, emptied the clip into his face. The high powered rounds drilled holes into his skull, and blew blood and brain matter everywhere.

He was loading one of the three spare clips that he always kept with him when he felt someone grab his shoulder. Out of habit he ducked down and came up, hitting the assailant with both fists, jamming the barrel into his stomach. He saw the blue uniform to late as he pulled off three rounds. The three bullets destroyed the cops stomach as he fell to his knees, and slide face down into a pool of his own gore. The cop's partner saw all of this, and went for his sidearm. Barnes fired two rounds over his head as he ran to the dead government man. He quickly went through his pockets, but found nothing important. He turned around when he heard the /crack/ of incoming rounds. Barnes yelled a curse as he felt one of the bullets bite into his arm.

He threw open the door of the black sentinel and slid in the drivers seat. Ignoring the rounds popping into his vehicle, he started it, and slammed his foot down on he accelerator. He powered through the stop sign and slid across the small road, so he was in front of the large red fire truck. He reversed, swung the car around, and floored it again.

----------

Two Yakuza men stood outside the door to the operation room, both armed with Uzi sub-machine guns, that were hidden under there jackets. One of them noticed that a new headline was flashing across the news channel. He walked over and turned up the volume.

"-aftermath of a deadly shooting, leaves two dead. Police suspect this man; Robert Barnes, seen here, as the shooter. We have no news as of yet why he assaulted these tw-"

The Yakuza man sighed and turned back to his job. He had enough things to worry about, never mind one more murderer running around the city.

Authors Note- Should White live or die? If I don't get any more input, I'll just flip a coin; I plan to continue either way, so don't worry about that aspect. Also, I need a new name for this story, I don't like "Kasens Bodyguard" because, its not really what the story is about. The tittle I'm considering now is "The Yakuza Man." Ayway, for some reason, I'm not happy with this chapter. I think its poorly written, but maybe im just being to self critical. Or maybe im just trying to fill this up so I can get four pages. Who knows.


	8. Lies & Deception

_Click_

Barnes's eyes snapped open. He rolled over in his bed and look at the door, which to his amazement was partially open. A small pair of bolt cutters were being retracted through the open door, and Barnes could see the dangling safety chain. Without a second thought, he rolled sideways off his mattress on to the ground, and quickly opened the drawer between the two beds. Retrieving his bulky .50, he lowered himself until just his eyes were above the mattress.

The door slowly opened, and in walked someone who Barnes was defiantly not expecting. He was medium height, dressed in a black suite, and black gloves. But what made him really stand out, were the pair of military grade NVG's (night vision goggles) on his head, and the .45 pistol with the bulky sound suppressor screwed on the front. The man turned toward the bed, saw Barnes, and raised the pistol.

"Barnes, Robert, you are hereby placed under arrest by the United States government. You have the right to remain silent, You have the right t-"

"What's the charge?" Barnes Demanded.

"Murder of the assistant to the director of the NSA (National Security Agency)" was the reply.

"I didn't kill him." Robert argued.

"We pulled bullets from his body that came from your personal sidearm. It wasn't hard to match them; do you know how many people are issued those by the U.S government? _Three_! And we have two of them placed at other areas. Plus we have countless witness's placing you there, including a police officer. That reminds me, you shot the cop didn't you. That's two murders… Interesting."

Barnes quietly made sure the hammer was pulled back on his weapon.

"Anyway, I'm here to take you before the NSA criminal justice court, and I think you know what will happen there."

Barnes did, the NSA courts would convict an innocent man just as fast as a guilty man. And the murder of a government official would probably warrant life in a government prison, if not death. That was unacceptable.

"What about the mission?" he asked.

"Your part is scrapped, my team and I are in now."

"A team… that means th-"

The man cut him off quickly.

"That's enough chatting for today, let's go, hands up where I can see them."

The second the agent stepped forward, Barnes sprung into action. He snapped the bedside lamp on, and leapt at him. The light overloaded the NSA mans night vision, making everything turn bright white. He screamed and stepped back as Barnes hit him. His suppressed gun went off once, high, and hit the ceiling. Robert, the bigger of the two, wrestled him down, but the government man knew some tricks to. He brought his knee up into Barnes groin. Robert yelped and rolled off. The agent turned and made a grab for his gun, but Barnes got a hand on his foot and pulled him back. Barnes let loose with one of his feet, and caught the man hard in the jaw. The confused agent rolled to his knees. Barnes leapt forward and grabbed the suppressed pistol. Rolling on his back, he pulled the gun up, and fired.

----------

Dr. Stowski worked feverishly on the young man before him. Around him, doctors circled, working on their individual duties. Across from him, Dr. Lester was digging around with a scalpel and a gloved hand. He grunted and grasped a bullet. Using some surgical scissors, he removed it and held it up to the light.

"7.62x38." he said flatly.

"That's a… an assault rifle round, right?" Most doctors in Liberty had become experts at identifying bullets.

"Looks like it."

Stowski shifted the light so it shined more on the upper torso area so he could see the tip of the round that had buried itself in the young mans lung. He was about to make an incision when one of the interns burst into the room.

"Someone, call the police, there's a gunfight in the lobby!"

----------

Barnes hurriedly checked his gun. The dead man had mentioned a team, so that meant there were more of them. He opened the door, and peeked out.

"Shit."

In the parking lot, there was a maroon sentinel that he had never seen before. And sitting around it were three people, two men and a lady. One of them, the one sitting on the hood, was biting the end off of a cigar. The other guy sat in the open passenger seat, while the lady leaned against the hood. The female looked up, and her eyes widened. She shouted something, and without a glance, the two men stood and reached under their jackets. Barnes cursed and took off running.

But of course he tripped and tumbled down the concrete steps. He rolled into one of the men, and knocked him back into the lady, who fell back and banged her head against the roof of the car. Barnes cursed and rolled to his feet. Moving quickly, he got to the black sentinel. He threw open the door, slid in, and hit the ignition. At the other car, the cigar smoker had already rolled backwards off his car and was now opening the door. The lady had already slammed the rear door and was opening the passenger side door. Barnes slammed his foot down on the accelerator just as the maroon sentinel roared to life. He screeched out of the parking lot, with the other car in hot pursuit.

----------

Officer Jerry Duane threw down his coffee and ran inside the hospital. He had been actually driving to the hospital to check on the young gangster. When he had pulled up, the sound of gunshots had suddenly filled the air.

He ran in, just in time to see a Colombian man propelled backwards by the force of the three Uzi rounds impacting his chest. Duane cursed and pulled his .45 from his hip holster.

"Freeze!"

The command seemed to stop time. Everyone paused and looked at the lone street cop. Then the paused stopped and six angry guns were turned on him. With a scream, Duane dove behind a sofa, but not fast enough to escape the hail of bullets that stitched his lower body thoroughly.

"Eight-six-niner, need backup at immediately!" he screamed into the microphone attached to his shoulder.

"Need help at the downtown hospital!"

One of the Colombians, Juan, brought up his AK-47 to fire. He pulled the trigger without aiming, just blowing the entire magazine while waving the rifle back and forth. Both Yakuza men went down hard, both gut shot. He leapt over the moaning men and ran to the operating room, while his three companions pulled out their sidearm to finish of the Yakuza men. Juan burst into to the operation room, gun held high, so everyone could see it. He immediately spotted the figure, lying on the metal operating table. Without a second thought, he slung the rifle over his shoulder and pulled his personal sidearm, a small 9mm, and began to level the handgun, when something hard hit him from the side, propelling him sideways, and cracking his head against the cold steel counter.

Dr. Stowski backed away in horror. He hadn't meant to hit him like that, he had only wanted to stop him from killing the patient. He stumbled back a step as Dr. Lester rushed by him to lock the operating room door. Lester reached the door, and was about to flip the lock when the door crashed open. In came a wild-eyed Colombian. Lester staggered backwards, the door having cracked his nose. The cartel member pulled up his gun when he saw Juan, lying broken and bleeding against the wall. He began to take a step towards him, when the door came open again.

A grizzled older police sergeant came in, a pump action shot gun at the ready. He swung the gun left, then right, before he spotted the Colombian. Pumping a round into the receiver, he squeezed the trigger and watched as his head exploded. Dr. Stowski smiled and stood, and was about to shake hands with the man, when the sergeant swiveled, pumped another round into the shotgun, and unloaded it into the patient. Stowski's jaw dropped as he backed away.

"What the hell did you do?!?!" he demanded.

The sergeant noticed him, swung the barrel around, and pulled the trigger.

----------

Barnes floored the sentinel and gripped the wheel tighter as he topped the hill. Marks Bistro flashed by him on his left, but he didn't have time to admire the view as bullets cracked all around him. Behind him, in the maroon sentinel, Linda James hauled the Mp5 back in the window.

"Step on it… he's getting away."

Jim Fox cursed around the remainder of his cigar, but accelerated. Linda ejected the magazine and let it hit the floorboard. With astonishing speed, she slammed another one home and pulled the bolt back. She leaned back out the window, and did her best to line up a shot. Usually, she was an outstanding marksman; especially with a weapon as easy to fire as the Mp5, but firing from a bouncing car at another bouncing car were not ideal firing conditions.

She was about to pull back on the trigger, when there was an explosion to her right. Someone had just fired a fucking shotgun at them!

In the lead car, Barnes burst out in laughter. He had forgotten he was speeding through Mafia territory, and that he was in one of their trademark vehicles. The thugs who were out patrolling the streets had seen one of their cars being shot out, and had naturally turned their own weapons to help.

Fox cursed as another shotgun blast took a chunk out of the side of the engine block.

"It's over!" he shouted

And with that, he slammed on the brakes and spun the wheel. Fox fishtailed around the corner and hit the accelerator, propelling them down the steep hill. A Mafia thug on the side of the road saw the escaping car, and pulled up his heavy shotgun. With a smile of his face, he unloaded the buckshot round into fox's windshield. Jim screamed as small steel pellets penetrated his body. He spun the wheel sharply, and turned the car so it now blocked the road. The black sentinel behind him slammed on the breaks, but not fast enough. He slammed into the rear seat, causing the maroon sentinel to spin crazily until it slammed into the wall.

The driver of the Mafia car pushed open the door, and stood up. He ducked his head back in and grabbed the shotgun sitting in his passenger seat. He pulled it out and laid it across the door. He was about to line up his shot, when a police car slid around the corner. As soon as the officer saw what was going on, the lights flared on. The Mafia man cursed and slid back into his car. Without even bothering to close the door, he stomped down on the accelerator, and shot past the blaring police car, and the crushed sentinel.

Fred Wilson, the third agent who had been left behind when Barnes had made his run, stepped out of the police car that he had "borrowed" from a cop who was probably still sitting in a dinner booth. He hustled over to the car and looked inside. It was bloody mess. Both agents were either unconscious or dead. He opened the door, and pulled Fox out. Carefully, he laid him down in the rear seat, before sliding behind the wheel. He did his best to ignore the blood as he put the car in reverse. It made several odd noises, and spewed thick black smoke, but it reversed. Driving carefully, he began the trip to the hospital.

Authors Note- Well well well. Back again. Sorry for the long wait, but I have been VERY busy. Anyway, new characters. And by the way, each of the new ones are based off people who I personally know, because I'm to damn lazy to think up my own. Anyway, hope you people like the new name. I'll try to keep more current this time.


	9. The Blue Dragons

The maroon Sentinel came to a stop at the light. Jim Fox took a final drag off of his cigar before flicking it out the window. Next to him, Linda glanced at him out of the corner of her eye, but she didn't say anything. They were all quiet, thanks to this morning's activity. Jim and Linda had been released from the hospital, neither with injuries that were _too_ serious. Linda had been knocked unconscious when she had hit her head on the dashboard, and was fine. Fox, on the other hand, had been peppered pretty heavily by the buckshot round. He had been rushed into surgery, but three hours later he was released, and even told he could return home on the same day.

While Jim had been in surgery, Fred had taken the barely running car to the Portland Pay n' Spray over in the red lights district. The mechanic, the same one who had repaired Barn's sentinel only days before, had done an excellent job, and had worked fast. For a mere three grand, they had overhauled the engine, replaced the windshields, and repaired the numerous scratches and bullet holes. And to top it all off, they had scrubbed the leather interior and sprayed it down with "New Car Smell In a Can"

The Sentinel slowly turned into the run down apartment building. The trio walked up the stairs to the second floor, and Fox did the honors of picking the lock on room 7B.

The door swept open, and the first sight they were greeted with was the dead body of Agent Fenson, who lay in a puddle of his own blood, shot dead by Robert Barnes. James and Wilson grabbed a black tarp and wrapped him up, then carried him out to the dumpsters in the rear. Fox walked straight to the second bed, flipped off the top mattress, and cut in to the box spring, ignoring the hidden zipper. Inside the hollowed mattress were three suitcases and a black duffel bag. He removed the bags as Linda walked back in the door.

"What's that?" She asked.

"Its Barnes treasure box, now get Freddie in here, we got work to do."

-

Robert Barnes pulled his sentinel to a stop at the gas station across from Discount Autos. He got out, opened the tank, and slid the nozzle in. As he began pumping the tank, Barnes leaned back and closed his eyes. He had no idea what the hell he was going to do. By now, every form of law enforcement had to have a dozen wanted posters with his face on them.

"Hey!"

A voice made him open his eyes and turn his head. Two Mafia thugs were cornering a Diablo gang man. One of the Mafia men was holding a baseball bat, the other a shotgun. The unarmed Diablo man stumbled and fell backwards, then raised a hand as if to try and block the blows that were sure to come.

Something overcame Barnes. It was probably some old remnant of training. Something in his head screamed for him to "_Protect Protect Protect_." Without a second thought, Robert was moving to the three men.

He was halfway there before he remembered he had dropped his pistol. But it was too late, he was there. The armed Mafia man turned.

"This is non of your business, just turn around and leave."

Behind him, the other man had started swinging his bat at the young Mexican gangster. Barnes didn't bother answer, he let his actions speak for him.

Robert Barnes reached forward, placed one hand on the barrel of the gun, the other under it, in front of the trigger guard. He pushed down on the barrel, and pulled up on the trigger. The but of the big gun came up and caught the mobster on his chin, dazing him. Barnes brought the upside-down gun up so it was level with the mans stomach, and pulled the trigger. Flipping the shotgun over, he pumped another round into the receiver and pulled it up to his shoulder. The other mobster was still turning when the shotgun exploded again.

-

Jerry Duane pulled himself to a sitting position. The pain in his legs was excruciating, and he felt on the edge of loosing conciseness. He could here more gunshots in the other room, when the old sergeant, the same one from the downtown shootout, burst through the door, still brandishing his old shotgun. The man rushed past him, and then Jerry heard a total of four shotgun blasts. Moments later, the sergeant came back to the sitting room. Duane pulled himself so he could see over the couch.

"You get him?"

The grizzled older officer turned at the sound of his voice.

"Yeah, just like I got you." He replied.

Duane looked at him confused, until he pulled the shotgun up to his shoulder. Instead of diving, Jerry let himself fall backwards as the first round went off, high. As Duane fell back, hard, he drew his .45.

The sergeant figured that the man had probably knocked himself out, but to make sure, he jumped on top of the couch and looked down-

-Duane saw the older man jump up, and let loose with a trio of bullets that hit the officer in his chest, propelling him backwards off the couch.

-

The streets had turned into a full-blown war zone. The Triad and Mafia gangs were openly attacking each other. Areas where the two turfs's overlapped each other had become bloody skirmish zones. Bodies were strewn across the streets. And instead of trying to help, the police simply backed off, deciding to let these things sort themselves out. At this moment, they mayor was putting in a call to the Federal Bureau of Investigations building in Downtown Stanton island. Things, he explained, were out of control.

-

Fox adjusted the dial on the range finder, the peered down the scope of his rifle.

"Perfect"

Jim Fox was lying down on a roof in the heart of the triad community, china town. He was looking down the scope of his M82 A1, also known as the .50 caliber sniper rifle. His scope was centered on the front door of the small Chinese takeout hut across the street. The place was a front. The building was actually the central meeting place for the Liberty City Triad. The leader, and elderly man who called himself Ho Chi, was inside in a meeting.

At the same time, Chi had his five warlords, a group he called "The Blue Dragons," scattered around the town, directing the attacks on the Mafia territory. This was a great opportunity to hit the triads where it hurt. Linda and Wilson were spread out around the island, moving in on the five men. In his ear, his radio began to crackle.

"Eagle Two to Six, subject three in sight, moving to engage."

Fox spoke into his boom mike.

"Roger, six confirms subject three, good hunting."

-

Eagle Two, Fred Wilson, slowly moved toward the target. He was standing in the middle of three triad foot soldiers. Under Wilson's black trench coat, was a Uzi submachine gun, the very same make and model the triad troops were carrying.

He stopped across the street from them, and was about to pull the gun, when a red Kurma literally flew into the area, and skidded to a halt. Out poured three Mafia men and a guy in a black jacket. The four men pulled weapons, and made short work of the surprised triad thugs. The warlord fell back on his butt, and began to crab crawl away.

Black jacket stepped forward, raised his Uzi, and unloaded into the startled triad leader. The group then pilled back into the car and peeled out of the parking lot. Wilson stared at the dead bodies, still trying to figure out what had just happened. He lowered his head to the hidden radio transmitter on his lapel, and began to explain to Fox what had happened.

-

Linda slowly made her way towards the target. He was taking a leak into an open sewer. She slowly pulled her Kay-bar fighting knife (former standard issue knife for the US Marine Core), and brought it to a defensive position. James came up behind him and, in one fluent motion, ended his life. She snaked one hand around his mouth, while she drove the knife into the base of his skull. She brutally twisted it sideways, then shoved him forward into the open sewer. Without even looking back, she wiped the blade on a stray piece of garbage, then replaced it. As she walked away, she lowered her head to talk into the transmitter on her lapel.

-

"And they got back in the damn car and drove off."

Fox cursed and rubbed his chin. He was about to answer when a new voice came on line.

"Eagle One here, subject two confirmed dead. Moving to next target."

"Eagle One, be advised, Eagle Two ran into a snag. Some guy blew the shit out of subject three."

"Roger Six, will use caution, out."

-

Wilson was the first to find his next target. Subject four was in the middle of a shootout with a group of Mafia street thugs. The triad side was loosing badly. He could have just waited it out, but he didn't have the time. So instead he walked right up behind the warlord.

Subject four and two other gunmen were kneeling behind an abandoned police car. Wilson walked right up behind him, took a deep breath, and exploded into action.

He pulled the Uzi up, and pulled the trigger. The gun bucked in his hand, but he was an experienced shooter with it. He swept the gun diagonally across the thugs. The hollow pointed rounds stitched their shoulders and upper backs, hitting them against the car before they slid down, leaving ugly red streaks.

He walked up to the warlord, who was crying out in pain, and pushed the Uzi barrel against his skull. Without a second thought, he emptied his clip into the Chinese mans head.

-

Linda James slowly approached the "Punk Noodles" stand. She could see the warlord, and was about to pull her Mp-5 submachine gun from under her trench coat when three guys came running at the triads.

Two Mafia thugs and a guy in a black jacket rushed the warlord, guns blazing. They managed to shred the Chinese leader, but not before one triad gangster cracked his bat over the head of one of the mobsters. The man dropped like a load of bricks, crashing to the ground. The young James Dean lookalike in the leather jacket turned and unloaded the rest of his clip into the attacker. As his empty clip clattered to the ground, another triad man swung a bat that caught him across his back. As the young man fell, the remaining Mafia man grabbed him by his collar, and began to drag him away. A third triad man rushed the duo. He pulled back the bat, and hit a home run. The Mafia thug's head snapped back as he clattered to the ground. Leaving his two comrades to die, Black Jacket jumped to his feet, and made a B line for the exit.

Linda could only stare at the two men in suites and the back of the retreating man. She turned away, and began to speak into her hidden microphone.

-

Ho Chi left the building, in the center of a swarm of blue suited Chinese men. Up in his perch, Fox centered his crosshairs on the small mans chest, and was about to fire, when another Triad official stepped in his way. It was obvious from the way the man waved his arms around, that he disagreed with something that had happened in the meeting room. Fox watched the two men argue impatiently, before he decided to take action. He could only see one man, so he had to take SWAG (Scientific Wild Ass Guess) as to where Chi was. He put the scope on the mans lower back, and pulled the trigger.

-

Ho Chi looked at the insolent fool. The young man who dared to argue with his final word. He was about to tell one of his bodyguards to remove him, when the fool's stomach exploded. He gasped as fell to his knees, then flat on his face. Chi screamed as something big and painful connected with his upper thigh. He fell back and desperately grabbed at the huge hole in his leg. A puddle of blood was growing under the wound. One of his bodyguards stepped forward, and slipped in the gore. Another guard grabbed him and pulled Chi so he was lying against the side of the Perennial that he had been driven here in. The man raised his head slightly, when another round came and demolished the once handsome young face. Another man flung open the door and attempted to crawl in. Another booming gunshot and the man was literally thrown out of the car. Chi scrambled away from the car, his fear overcoming the incredible pain in his leg.

-

Freddie Wilson and Linda James slowly entered the triad HQ. Bullet shells and dead bodies were everywhere. Around back, lying against a propane tank, was the dead body of the fifth and final warlord. He had been messily executed; several rounds to the head at extremely close range. The two government agents looked at each other.

"You saw the guy in the leather jacket, right?"

"Yeah."

"Who the hell is this guy?"

Authors Note- I'm back! Guys, you have no way of knowing how sorry I am about the long break. I swear I'll make it up to my faithful readers who enjoy my story. Especially you Goomba5, your encouraging words are exactly what I needed to continue the story. Thanks man.

Anyway, This chapter takes place during the mission when you have to kill the three Triad leaders. Hopefully you did better then the guy in the story.

As a side note, I would like to point out that I am proud of myself because I have stopped begging for reviews. All is well.


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